What I am going to recount here may become my testament, I fear… But if sacrificing my life can save humankind, I will leave this world with the feeling of having done my duty. My only fear is that this story sound so incredible that I may pass for a disturbed mind.
Should these lines be read, it will mean that I have died, maybe in horrible conditions… I just ask you, reader, to say a prayer for me, to pray God for my soul’s sake, and either resume my fight or contribute to the diffusion of this document, in order to prevent Him from accomplishing His intentions.
In my distress, I did not introduce myself : I am E.G. Blackstone, born the 22nd of May 1957 in a British middle class family. My childhood was that of a child born in a rich provincial family. Although we are not Scottish, I spent my childhood in Scotland : my family moved there more than two centuries ago, for unexplained reasons. I have always tried - but failed- to find out why my ancestors decided to settle on the Scottish Sea shores. My grandfather knew but has always refused to tell me. I remember hearing rumors dealing with sorcery, but I cannot remember if I have dreamed them, or invented them in my childhood games. I miss the high cliff in front of the house, on which the dark waves broke into white foam. I used to watch them during the long winter evenings, as I sat dreaming about what my future might be. I fear I will never see them again.
I was the most brilliant student of my school. I say it without any pretentiousness: I was just very brilliant. After my law studies at Oxford, I decided to discover America and entered the Harvard Business School. Here, I met Stephen Croach. He was a Bostonian upper class student. We immediately became close friends. As always, as far as friendship is concerned, it is quite impossible to explain why we became friends : we where as different as chalk and cheese.
He was not very tall; his blond hair and blue eyes, combined with his slight Bostonian accent made of him the typical well-educated upper class American. He was a very calm and temperate student, full of tact and good education. Because of his timidity, he used to keep to himself and had just a few close friends he knew before entering the school. He was very cultured and talking with him was always a pleasure. I remember those days with much fondness.
On the contrary, henceforth separated from my family and the British society I used to associate with, I had forgotten my good manners. At that moment I lived a life of debauchery, attending parties every night, drinking more than I should have, changing girlfriend as often as I changed my shirt. Tall, brown hair and eyes, muscled, I was considered by my classmates to be a jovial, boisterous and brilliant roisterer. My popularity had brought me a considerable influence on my classmates.
Nothing should have brought such different characters together. But perhaps our differences drew us together. One day we finished both tied for the first place in a strategy case study. Content of the result, and although I did not know him very well, I decided to invite him to a bar for a couple of drinks. We talked together the whole night. Thus began our friendship.
We formed a workgroup and, together, monopolized the majority of the school’s first place prizes. He brought me his knowledge of the American firms and the American society, as well as his culture in literature and music. I brought him my spontaneity and the influence I had on the other students. We formed a very efficient team.
In our last year at Harvard he met Sarah, a first year student from New Orleans, and fell in love with her. She was a very pretty girl, with dark long hair, and piercing green eyes. She was at the same time full of humor, well educated and very clever. Unfortunately she did not even notice him, which made him very sad. I decided to help my friend and gave him all the little tricks I had developed in my short Casanova existence. They became friends but he was still unable to make her fall in love with him. I decided to use the most extreme method I knew. Why did I decide to do so ? Even now, I don’t really know. Perhaps I was upset because the advice I’d given him had had no effect, whereas I prided myself in driving any girl crazy. Or perhaps I just wanted to test the extent of the new powers I had discovered.
I now have to explain the latter. In fact I would have preferred not to, and I have postponed as long as possible the moment when I would have to talk about this. I did not list all the activities I practiced, when I said I lived a life of debauchery.
Since my early childhood, I have always been fond of the Bible and especially its evil side. When I was young this part of my personality frightened my family, and more particularly my grandfather. I was not inclined to evil, but I was just very curious as to the power it could procure. The turning point was the discovery I made one day in the heart of the attic of the old family’s house. I was not allowed to go there : my mother said I could injure myself because the attic was old and dangerous. But because of the potential danger and the forbidding, I used to go there very often. One day, I found an ancient book behind a big stack of books, under the dust. This book was really strange .The cover was made of thick black leather. Surprisingly, it was handwritten, like a cookbook. No dates were written in it, but it looked really ancient : the paper was nearly moldy and the black ink faded. It was nothing else than a black magic book. After having read it, I began to try some spells. I won’t describe them here, because it is not the point. However, to my great surprise the spells were really efficient.
Although I had never been told that I was not to try black magic spells, I knew, deep inside of me, that it was “bad”. That is the reason why I practiced black magic away from my family’s prying eyes, either in the dust of the attic, or in the deep forest near the house. However, about one year after having discovered the book, my grandfather surprised me in the attic while I was training to make the clouds come or go away, above the house. He took the book – I never saw it again - and punished me for having entered the attic. In the evening, the whole family was waiting for me in the sitting room. I was told by my grandfather that what I had done (he did not precise me what, but I truly knew…) was very bad, that if I went on with that sort of things I could regret it the rest of my life. Then, he made me promise, in the presence of the rest of the family, that I would never do it again. I was very impressed and had not expected that what I had done was worse that any forbidden game that all children play. Some months later it was forgotten and I was not interested anymore in black magic, playing the games of children my age.
But at the beginning of my scholarship in Harvard, as I was looking for a management book, a book on the shelves caught my eye. According to the summary, the book dealt with the revival of black magic in modern societies. Remembering the passions of my childhood, I read it. Fired with enthusiasm, I began to read more and more books about the subject and to practice, once again, the science I had gifts for. As I was very successful, I believed I was a great sorcerer, maybe even the greater that had ever been. Swollen with pride, I created a group in order to practice black magic rituals. At that moment I was fond of parties, alcohol, orgies, satanic rituals, and sexual deviance. Fortunately for my reputation, my fellow classmates, except those participating in my games, ignored that part of myself.
So when I saw that my best friend was unable to seduce Sarah, I decided to try one of my spells, and as this time I did not want to be unsuccessful, I combined several of the most powerful spells to make a woman fall in love with a man, which are certainly the oldest spells of the world. I locked myself up in my flat and began a long night of incantations to demons. That night was exhausting : though the protection of the pentacle I had drawn on the floor, I could feel the power of the demons, their strength, which made me feel weaker than I had ever been. I felt they wanted me, wanted my destruction. I was frightened and feared not to be able to control that explosion of hate, of uncontrolled power... For the first time I was frightened by what I had launched. Never has a night been so terrible : the elements unleashed. The wind blow during the whole night, and the rain fell continuously. I could hear the thunder, the whistle of the wind, and see the stripes of the lightning trough the window, and flames coming from the trees touched by the sky’s fires. It was the biggest storm that had ever been seen in Harvard.
When the morning came, I fell on the floor, exhausted. Through the window I could see, in the dawning morning, the devastated town : trees were uprooted, cars destroyed, some had burned, others were lying on the top. For the first time, one of my experiments had made me fear for my life. I was convinced I had not been very far from being brought directly in hell by the demons I had invoked.
In the afternoon, I met Stephen and Sarah. They were walking hand in hand. Stephen’s face was beaming with joy and happiness. He explained to me that the day before as he was working on a case in Sarah’s room, the storm broke. As it was too dangerous to come back home, he had spent the whole night in Sarah’s room, and, through their talks during the whole night, she had fallen in love with him. They got worried about my very pale face, my appearance of a man having terminal cancer. I just told them that I had a very hard night with some girlfriends of mine. Stephen and Sarah, like many other of my fellow students, knew that I led a very disorderly sexual life, so he just gave a slight smile and a wink, saying “Ah, you will never change !”.
Since this day, they were inseparable; however our friendship did not suffer from their love and we remained very close. After his studies he settled in Boston, working for a famous consulting group. I went to New York, the only city that I thought able to greet my appetites. I found a good job as a trader for an international bank. I love New York, this great town, full of energy, were you can feel the concentration of world powers like nowhere else in the world. There was place in that town for my appetites of power and pleasure. However, though I went on with my habits of depravity, I stopped practicing black magic. I had been too scared by my experiments in Harvard. I had discovered that my grandfather was right. It was not just a game and I could loose my life. Moreover I had seen the uncontrollable power of destruction I had unleashed over the town. I could not control such a power and did not want to be its victim.
Stephen and I went on seeing one another very often. We really enjoyed spending weekends together. My friends were his and inversely. And naturally one day his wife became pregnant. The day when they learned the good news they called me and I took one day off to join them. They decided that I should be the godfather. She gave birth to a boy, John, on the sixth of June of the year 1986. The conditions of his birth were very difficult : there was a big storm outside, when she felt the first contractions. It had cut off all the communication means and also the electricity. She was alone in the house - Stephen was on a business trip in Asia. The baby was expected one month later, so he was not worried to let her alone at that moment.
The courageous girl managed to give birth to the child, alone, in that big Victorian house they had settled in. Belonging to an old lineage of strong-minded women from New Orleans, guided by the old instincts that still live in each woman, she managed to do the job herself. She cut the umbilical cord with a knife and made a big fire in the fireplace to make water boil to clean the baby, and to warm him up. When the morning came, the storm had disappeared, and the postman found her asleep, and exhausted, the baby in her arms, awake, watching around.
The child he became was handsome. He was very good looking, healthy, strong, and very precocious for his age. Everyday we could see him becoming stronger, wiser. He had inherited the green eyes from his mother and the blond hair from his father. Surprisingly he had no other physical features in common with his parents. His features were very fine, like a woman, his eyes reflecting his intelligence. The teenager he had become loved wearing his hair long, giving him the look of an angel with burning eyes. I think he drove any woman or girl he met crazy.
He was also very brilliant, with a very sharp mind. He was able to read and write in his early fours. But he was not only old beyond his years, he was also wiser than many men in the prime of life were. At the age of nine he could distinguish subtleties in the Bible I had never been aware of. I prided myself in my childhood on teaching the other children of my school messages of the Bible. I was even proud of being able sometimes to teach my family some lesson from the Bible. But he was different. The lesson he managed to learn from the holly book were so subtle, so balanced, that one could have believed he wrote it himself. I must recognize that sometimes I was very jealous of his shrewdness.
Nature had given him all kind gifts : he was not only handsome and brilliant, but played the piano marvelously. We could stay hours listening to him playing, charmed and under the spell of the instrument. He could make us forget the present, and make our mind escape from reality. He was certainly one of the best pianists I had ever heard.
And through all his gifts, he remained very simple. It was very difficult not to love him because he was very kind and not pretentious at all. He was able to make you comfortable by his kindness and his simplicity, and even to make you forget he was such a genius. In fact he was considered by the majority of people as someone very normal, just a bit more gifted than his fellows : a part of his talent lied also there.
I truly loved him – as I had no children, in a way he was my son - and he seemed to love his close circle. The years went by and we formed a close circle of friends. Stephen’s career and mine were progressing and we got more and more responsibilities in our firms. The years seemed to have no effect on Sarah who was still beautiful. And John grew up. Everything changed a warm and sunny day of May.
We had taken holidays and had rented a house in the Rocky Mountains. We used to walk in the mountains and practiced fishing. John was fourteen, and during the walks I loved to talk with him about life, the Bible, and the lessons he could draw from some parts. He really impressed me and I learned a lot from him. We were very close. Late one evening I decided to go and ask him a theological question I had never managed to solve about Satan : is he just a part of God’s big plan, and so is to be saved at the end of time, or is he the only error God has ever done ? There are many arguments in favor of both hypothesis, but it is not the point.
Arriving in front of his door, I heard a strange noise, a sort of muffled moan. Curious about what could produce such a noise in my godson’s room, and not wanting to put him in an awkward position, I spied through the keyhole. I could not believe my eyes. I could have never expected what I saw, and still now if what happened later had not happened, I would still have doubts about my eyes and my mental sanity. He was in the room, surrounded by black candles and was cutting the throat of bird. His forearms were covered with blood. He had a cruel smile I had never seen on his face. In the light of candles he seemed really older than he was. Even if I had stopped years before, I was still used to satanic ceremonies. But I could feel something different there : he could not be from this world. The same power I had felt that terrible night of incantations in Harvard and that had driven me to give up any kind of black magic. I still don’t know how he discerned my presence but he suddenly came to the door, letting me no time to escape, and opened violently the door. I saw his eyes, filled by flames. I felt, deep inside of me, the terrible ancestral feeling prey have when they know they are in the presence of a predator. I felt myself weaker than ever.
He looked at me with a terrible sarcastic smile. Then came from his mouth a voice I had never heard, and which could not be his. The voice was deep, bass, powerful, charming and in the same time terrifying. His burning eyes fixed on me he said : “You spied on me. You have to know now that if you oppose my purposes, your life is close to its end. You are just a bird of passage, I am here to last”. I fled to my room, terrified, unable to think Filled with horror, I thought that he was too dangerous not to warn the others there.
I knew that Stephen would not believe me but I would just have to show him what happened to the bird. I firstly apologized for waking up him so late and, shaking with fear, explained him what happened. He thought that I had become mad, insane or that I had taken drugs. I was pale, the knees and the hands trembling, and one could read the terror in my eyes. I was really panicked, and although he did not believe me, he accepted to go to John’s room, in order to reassure me. He first knocked, then opened the door. I was struck with consternation. He was peacefully sleeping in his bed. I cried out “But five minutes ago there was blood on the floor. But where did you put the bird ?”. Stephen took me apart and told me that I was his best friend and that he could understand that my job led me to overwork. He told me that I should take some rest but that I should not cause any problem to John, who is young and would suffer if he knew that his godfather thought he did such terrible things. I acquiesced in what he said, flabbergasted, doubting my own sanity. But I had seen…
The days after, I tried to act as if nothing had happened. John was like ever, kind, handsome, and brilliant. He was with me as he used to be before. I would have doubted what I thought I had seen if sometimes I did not feel him put a terrible glance on me. Sometimes I surprised his burning threatening gaze, and no longer doubted his duplicity. After those holidays I came back home and called the firm to take more vacation. I wanted to study him, to know where he derived his powers from. I locked myself up in my flat, after having bought some books I needed for my research. I should have been happy to come back to my youth’s “hobby” and to have found a talented adversary, I who prided myself on being the best and the most gifted sorcerer of this world. But I felt terrified, feeling that the enemy was stronger than what I had ever met.
It did not take me much time to know who he was. In fact it was blatant and I should have guessed it since the beginning - his birth date bore the mark: he was born on the sixth day of the sixth month of the year. And the year itself bore the mark of Satan. In numerology, you have to make the sum of the figures of a number until you get a figure you can analyze. In his case, 1+9+8+6 = 24. 2+ 4 = 6. Then I realized what I had done. He was my creation. That terrible night in Harvard, I had unleashed the most powerful demons and maybe Satan himself on the couple. Because of my pride, I would be the damned man to have triggered Armageddon. My grandfather was right and I should not have pursued with sorcery; maybe he was even aware, via a prophecy or something like that, that our family was cursed. That would have explained many awkward reactions of the family in my childhood. I knew then that my life would be hell and that the threat could come from anywhere. John Croach was no one else than the Antichrist. I decided to keep my research secret because I knew I would not be believed. I just phoned Stephen and told him to be very careful with John. He just answered me to rest; he was incredulous.
But one day, some weeks later, as I was still wondering how I could fight John – if I ever could – I received a phone call from Stephen. It was very late in the night. Since my discovery I could not sleep at night and had to take sleeping tablets. I wonder how I managed to get up, but I did. It was Stephen. He was panicked. He told me I was right. He did not wanted to tell me more on the phone. He was speaking very faintly, as if he did not wanted to be heard. His voice was very diffused. He told me he would come in New York the day after to explain me everything.
I never saw him again. The day after, his car was crushed by a truck on the highway near his house. His body was dismembered and mauled. Nobody could have recognized the body. The truck driver explained that he could not control the truck anymore, that there must have been a problem with the brakes of the truck. But I know who was responsible for his death : John did not want his father to oppose his purposes. I immediately took the plane to join his wife. She was very calm, distraught, disembodied as if her own soul had left the earth. John was calm also. One could have believed that he wanted to take care of his mother, and that he did not wanted to show his pain. He was very worthy. But I knew his real reason. I tried to explain to her what happened, I told her the whole story. She just coldly answered that he gave no phone call that night, that I should stop bothering her and my godson with that story, that she advises me to take some rest and to find a good psychiatrist, hat she had already to much pain and did not want me to bring her more with my insane stories.
After the funeral I went back home. I needed some rest and now I knew that it was my turn, that I would have to prepare myself to fight. But I would not be that easy to overcome. I had been and could become again a great sorcerer. In my childhood I had really great powers over the element. I was ready to fight : I had nothing to loose.
Those last weeks I have worked at the office to put everything in order in the most probable case that the worst might happen. Today, I have just phoned the office. They have given me one week to take some rest. It will allow me to prepare myself for the fight : I have been training in my flat for weeks and my powers seem to be the same as they used to be in the past. Now the best thing I have to do is to write my testament, to bequeath this document to a newspaper in the hopes it will be taken seriously. I will now secure this document in my safe in the bank.
Article from the New York Post (5th February 2001)
Yesterday night a terrible accident happened in the luxurious flat of E.G. Blackstone, CEO of the Chase Manhattan Securities, a division of the Chase Manhattan Bank. Fire took in the flat and devastated it. Firemen found the dead body of E.G. Blackstone after their arrival. Seriously burned, his body carried also deep mutilation signs. According to the police it could be a crime, but a suicide preceded by an auto-mutilation is also very likely. Since the death of his closest friend, Stephen Croach, the successful businessman, Blackstone was not the same anymore and had some psychological troubles. Our informants reported that he used to go less and less to his office and that he had put everything in order at the office as if he knew he would die soon.
New York Post : 12th February 2001
In the Blackstone case, the police have concluded to a suicide, in a
fit of madness. Strange black magic materials found at his flat and his
recent behavior justify this decision. Moreover he had bequeathed the New
York Post a strange handwritten text in which he pretended to have found
the antichrist, which threatened him and wanted his death. The manuscript
has been sold to a novelist, interested in the subject.
As Mr. Blackstone had no heirs, his Godson, John Croach, already at the head of the financial empire of his deceased father, will inherit his fortune, representing approximately 200 millions dollars.